


Feeling Good

by chantrykomori



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Casual Sex, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22867687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantrykomori/pseuds/chantrykomori
Summary: Nick Edenson, local Tremere imposter and Kindred about town, has a meeting with LA's Prince. It's only a little bit about business.
Relationships: Sebastian LaCroix/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Feeling Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carolinian_Bog_Hermit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carolinian_Bog_Hermit/gifts).
  * Inspired by [New York by Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708954) by [Carolinian_Bog_Hermit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carolinian_Bog_Hermit/pseuds/Carolinian_Bog_Hermit). 



> author's note: thanks to my bro Carolinian_Bog_Hermit for beta’ing this for me. this is a companion piece to his fic New York By Night, which you should check out. it is loosely set in/inspired by the same universe. this is compliant with VTMB canon with the exception of moving it forward to the present day, prior to the start of the game. also, two men fuck in it.
> 
> cw: mentions of past rape/non-con, religious abuse

“It’s a bit late to go out.”

Nick Edenson ignored the regent’s patient warning from the walnut study he’d just strode past. “You don’t need to worry about me, sir,” he called breezily, his head barely inclined toward Strauss. Bigger fish to fry that evening.

Strauss _hmm_ ’d. He turned back to his book.

Nick couldn’t give less of a shit what Strauss thought of his nightly constitutionals. He sauntered out, hands in his pockets.

\-------

_“I heard he’s gay,” the Anarch snickered._

_“Oh my god, Nines, there’s a difference between gay and bi. Dumbass!” Damsel shouted, smacking his arm. “What is this, the goddamn 1940s?”_

_“Ow! Whatever, Damz. Why do you care?” Nines rubbed his arm and rolled his eyes. “He’s a fascist prick like all the rest. I didn’t know you gave a shit about ‘_ proper terminology’ _for how he does and does not like to get his ass pounded by men.”_

_“Jesus Christ! You’re such a goddamn homophobe. I don’t know why I even talk to you.”_

_At the other end of the bar, Nick stubbed out his cigarette and stepped outside._

_\------- ~~~~_

Nick leaned forward onto the reception desk with a winning smile. “Hey there, Chunk. Do me a favor and buzz me up, would you? Mr. Lacroix is expecting me.”

Chunk yawned, and covered his mouth with one flabby fist. “Ahhh… oh, ‘scuse me, there. Almost the end of my shift. What kinda business you folks do this late at night? It’s almost quittin’ time, ain’t it?”

“We’re both night owls. Got some important spreadsheets to go over.” Nick winked. Chunk seemed stunned.

“Uh – yeah, yeah, of course! I’ll buzz ya on up. You take care, Mr. Edenson.”

Nick could feel the eyes on the back of his head as he passed, and he smirked. The elevator took him up to the penthouse, and Nick wiggled his fingers a little to let out the nervous energy.

As the elevator doors slid open, he met the eyes of the behemoth guarding the door. _The Sheriff._ Eight and a half feet of muscle, sinew, and Laibon vitae, and undoubtably the reason why the Los Angeles Anarchs were sitting on their hands in a dive bar downtown instead of murdering their local Cam tyrant.

Nick smiled at the Sheriff. “Got a meeting with Sebastian, big guy. Mind stepping aside?”

The Sheriff stared. Nick stared back, unflapped. Well, maybe a little flapped. He wasn’t a _complete_ idiot. The man’s eyes were a frightening solid red, and one arm was probably thicker than Nick’s entire head. And then there was the Cloud Strife sword. _How does he not break the Masquerade every time he steps outside?_

“Um.” He shifted from one foot to the other, as the Sheriff resolutely refused to step away from the door.

Finally, after what seemed like ages but was probably only a minute or two, he stepped to the side, gesturing exaggeratedly with his catcher’s-mitt hand.

“Uh. Thanks, man.”

Before he could step through the door, an enormous flash of metal sliced through the air directly in front of him.

To Nick’s credit, he didn’t scream or react. “S’cuse me.”

The Sheriff raised his sword away from the door. Was he _smirking_?

\------

_“What have you learned?”_

_Nick kneeled before the woman looking out of the window of the hotel room, seated with her back turned to him in a chair. The air was stifling with remnants of frankincense smoke, and his sire always kept her haven a little too warm for comfort – even for Kindred. He didn’t know how she could stand it. Then again, he’d seen her starve herself for months at a time, seemingly unconcerned with her undead physiology’s demands. The heat was probably on purpose._

_“I have an opportunity to get into the Prince’s good graces,” he said._

_Mira turned around, the light catching her deep brown face, reflecting every shade of green in her hair, piercing red eyes meeting his. He shuddered involuntarily, wave after wave of emotion flooding him. She was so beautiful. God, he loved her. He loved her so much it made him want to throw up. And he knew it wasn’t real, and he knew she was neutral at_ best _to him, but it didn’t matter. He loved her so goddamned much._

_It made his stomach crawl._

_Her voice was always soft, even when she chastised him. He’d only heard her raise her voice once. “Tell me more.”_

_So, he did._

_\----_

When Nick opened the door, the Prince was standing at the window, his back turned to him.

Nick grinned. “Hey. Fancy meetin’ you here.”

The Prince cleared his throat a little. “Good evening, Edenson.”

“Think we’ve progressed to first names, yet?”

“Addressing acquaintances by their surname is generally considered to be respectful.”

“Ouch. Still acquaintances, huh?”

Lacroix cocked his head to look at him. “Courtesy is an armor, Edenson. One of your modern-day poets said that.”

“One of _my_ poets?” he asks, hopping on top of the Prince’s desk and crossing his ankles. He leaned back, his suit jacket parting slightly. “Damn. Didn’t know I had those.”

Lacroix, composed, ignored the taunt and sat down properly in the plush leather chair behind the desk. “Have you your report on what we discussed previously?”

What they had discussed previously was a _profoundly_ dangerous thing for any prince to ask a Tremere neonate – especially for the neonate. It was fortunate for Lacroix that Nick wasn’t a Tremere. (He didn’t need to know that, of course.)

Nick smiled and met his eyes. “Got it right here, boss.” He reached into his coat pocket and handed him a manila envelope with handwritten scrawl inside of it. Inside were the movements and communications of one Maximillian Strauss, from the purveyor of his nightly goblet of blood to the name of the courier who carried his messages to Vienna. And on top of that – one juicy little secret, just for the Prince himself.

He leaned forward. “Did you know the regent has some friends on the other side? Friends of the… infernal variety?” Nick said in a soft whisper. Lacroix looked up and met his eyes, stunned. Nick held his gaze, piercing blue to pale grey. To his surprise, a rush of adrenaline flooded his belly. Where had _that_ come from?

“We must maintain his secrecy, for the time being,” Lacroix murmured, tucking the folder into a desk drawer, the air thick between them. His eyes fell away, and he turned away. “Don’t you agree, Edenson?”

“I think you’re a smart man.” He smiled again. “You keep it to yourself until he steps out of line, and let him know what you know. And you know I’ll keep it to myself for my own safety.”

“I do know that.” Nick watched as he locked the drawer. “Because to do otherwise would expose you to repercussions, from both the Tremere clan and the Camarilla.”

“Look at us. Two trustworthy guys.”

Lacroix smirked. “Indeed. One wonders where we get it from.” He rose from his chair and straightened his jacket. “It is rather close to sunrise, Edenson. It might not be safe for you to make your way back to the chantry at so late an hour. Might I offer my quarters? For your protection, of course.”

“My protection, huh?” Nick smirked, and he rose to his feet.

Lacroix turned back. His typically marble countenance was faintly tinged with pink. “I can’t have an ally of mine put in danger, after all.” One fang worried his bottom lip.

“Very kind of you.”

Neither of them mentioned, at least until the door to Lacroix’s personal quarters shut behind them, that they’d planned it all along.

\-----

_The sodium lights reflected off the top of his head, turning his normally ash blond hair an unnatural orange and highlighting the hollows of his cheeks. It had been nearly a week since Nick had eaten anything more substantial than McDonalds’ fries. He’d spent what money he had on coke, and the comedown was here with a vengeance._

_He leaned against the brick wall of the alley; his eyes closed. If he had a bed, he’d have crawled into it and stayed there for the rest of the month. As matters stood, he was “_ no longer welcome” _at the homeless shelter. Whatever. He’d make do. He always had._

_The alley was still better than that hellhole he’d crawled out of._

_“You look hungry.”_

_Nick peered up at the woman who had appeared at the mouth of the alley. The streetlights silhouetted her, and it was hard to make out anything except the hooded sweatshirt and jeans._

_“I don’t need charity.” The words came out a little garbled, a little too slow. God, how fucked up was he?_

_“I wasn’t offering charity. Merely making commentary.”_

_“Lick my balls, lady. I’m not your free entertainment.”_

_“I saw what you said to that man.”_

_Nick paused. She was talking about the guy who had walked by a couple hours ago. Nick had given him the classic sob story about needing just a few bucks to get a hotel room for the night. He had a job interview the next day, after all, and he’d need to shower. The man had clasped fifty bucks into his hand and said that God would be with him. Later, when he was buying the blow, his skin crawled. Not because he’d lied to the man to get a hit. (Who gave a fuck about marks?) Not even because of how low he’d fallen. That was almost a pleasure, in a way._

_But the idea that even now, God hounded his every step…_

_Nick turned to the side, and without further ado vomited every tiny bit of his stomach up. His abused body shook with the effort, and even after there was nothing in him it continued to seize and retch._

_The woman was at his side, too fast for him to scramble away._

_“I could use someone like you.”_

\------

Sex hadn’t played into the plan he’d devised with his sire. For all he could say about Mother Mira, she would never in a thousand years ask him to fuck someone for information or for a leg up on the Jyhad. Some might. Some _did._ But not her. She knew all too well what that did to someone like the two of them. She’d seen the results.

“Have you fed this evening, Edenson? I have a selection you may peruse.”

Nick watched him shrug out of his suit jacket and hang it on a hook in the hall. Without the swamp of fabric that was his favored Italian cut, Sebastian was slender and lithe, youth frozen in time forever. His mouth went dry.

If he could keep an eye on the Prince _and_ have some fun in the process – well, why not?

“Ah… Nick?”

Nick rubbed his mouth a little, realizing he’d been staring. “Uh, no, no. Sorry. Thank you for offering.”

“Are you quite alright?” There was a faint trace of worry on his face.

“Would it be alright if I took a shower? Old habits die hard.”

The color that had been faint on Sebastian’s cheeks until now grew luminous. “Certainly. The door is inside of the master bedroom.”

Nick grinned. “Thanks. Give me a minute.”

The master bathroom was as over-the-top 1% as Nick could possibly imagine. Everything was sleek marble and stone, sharp angles and monochrome. It was like brushing your teeth in a car commercial. The centerpiece of it all was an enormous shower, walled on all sides by pristine glass and black brickwork, with a smooth, sloping wooden seat set into the side. Nick made a low whistle through his teeth, and started fiddling with the controls. An overlarge showerhead set into the ceiling immediately gushed with jets of water and steam, and he stripped off and stepped under the spray.

Nick closed his eyes and leaned against the brickwork, reveling in the water pressure that only 100k a year could buy. It was a hell of a lot nicer than the clawfoot tub and brass fixtures that ran cold back in his quarters at the chantry. Maybe if he played his cards right, he’d get to spend more than one night in this shower.

It wasn’t the first time they’d had an… encounter. A week prior had been the first time, hands frantic and uncertainty brewing. He would qualify it as “messing around” more than anything – testing the waters, experimenting with how far each of them could go before the other would push back. Tonight, however, _was_ the first time Nick would spend the night there – in the Prince’s private quarters.

Lacroix wasn’t the first time Nick had slept with a man.

He’d done it hundreds of times before this. Hadn’t always been his choice, but sometimes a man did what he had to do to get a hit, or a bed to sleep on, or a night without the local cult leader beating him bloody. That was the bulk of his experience – survival, not pleasure. Sometimes it was both. He wasn’t going to complain about hopping in bed with someone attractive. But it did make him wonder, in dark moments. How much of his desires were his own?

Behind him, the door to the bathroom quietly creaked open. Nick opened an eye, but didn’t turn around. His stance shifted, ever so slightly, shaking off the visible self-doubt. Fabric fell to the floor, and the glass door to the shower slid open.

“May I…?” Sebastian murmured from behind him, his hand warm on Nick’s shoulder. Nick shivered, and almost instantly the vitae inside of him changed to something more vital – more familiar. _Yes. Oh,_ hell _yes._

“Was just wondering what was takin’ you so long.” He turned around, and was rewarded with the sight of a wet, naked Sebastian, water dripping down his chest and past his waist, gorgeous grey eyes meeting his. “Goddamn,” he muttered, reaching out to wrap an arm around his waist.

“I hope that is a good ‘goddamn’,” Sebastian laughed nervously, his hands moving up into Nick’s hair. He pulled him forward, meeting his lips – so softly that it took him aback. Nick reached up, cupping his jaw, his tongue sliding past Sebastian’s lips.

Sebastian sighed against him and pressed against him, hard against Nick’s thigh. “ _Mon dieu…_ what kind of demonic bargain did you make for this…?” Fingers brushed against his cock, and Nick couldn’t help but to groan a little as he ran his fingers down the entire length. Sebastian smirked and gripped him tighter. All rational thought ran away from him.

“Came by it naturally…” he managed to say over the rushing din of arousal suddenly surging through him. “If you don’t think you can handle it…” He pressed his thigh up between Sebastian’s legs, eliciting a delicious _whine_ from him.

“Ah – _baise-moi…”_ he growled in Nick’s ear. The fingers in his hair tightened.

“I plan on it.” He reached down and took hold of him, each languid stroke making Sebastian keen and whine and gasp. “Listen to you,” Nick teased, voice husky. “You want it so bad, you’re fallin’ to pieces.” He wasn’t wrong – precome was practically dripping down his hand.

“Shut up, you… “ He moaned, cut off as Nick’s hand suddenly dropped away. “Ah… don’t stop…”

“Shhh…” Nick leaned forward to kiss him again, pressing him against the glass. “You wanna move this to the other room…?” It was getting tricky to balance the two of them, what with the slick glass and wet marble and raging erections.

“If it means you’ll finish the job I brought you up here to do,” Sebastian murmured. “Wretched, defiant man…”

Nick clicked his tongue, and laughed. “Bossy, bossy. Do you want to be in charge now?”

“Perhaps. I haven’t decided yet.”

He shoved down the strange feeling that that planted in him. “We’ll see about that.” _Keep it cool. Everything’s fine._ Nick turned off the faucet, grasped his hand, and pulled him out of the shower. “C’mere.”

It was only a few steps to the bed from the bathroom. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, even in those few steps. For a minute, he thought Sebastian was going to complain about getting water all over his expensive bedspread sewn out of a thousand virgin alpaca pelts. Instead, he pushed Nick onto the bed with one hand, and crawled on top of him.

“Whoa there, tiger,” he laughed, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

“I will take care of you. Lay back.” Sebastian pressed him back down with one hand, settling himself between Nick’s legs. Nick could only watch, pinned down as he was by his weight on his legs, as he took hold of him. His lips parted, and slipped over the head of his cock.

“Fuck, Sebastian,” he gasped, clutching the bedspread between his fingers.

“Are we on a first-name basis now, Edenson?” he murmured, dragging his tongue _so_ goddamn slow up the underside of his shaft, his eyes locked to his. That piercing gaze, hazy with lust, was nearly enough to make him come all over his pretty, pouty, Ventrue face. _Maybe he’d like that._

His brain struggled for a retort. “Fuck, I’ll call you anything you want,” he pleaded. “Just don’t stop.”

“Hmmm.” His lips pressed against the base of his shaft, and dipped back up to sheathe Nick in his mouth. Nick let out a strangled, helpless moan, burying one hand in his hair, watching the Prince of Los Angeles suck his cock like it was his job. Despite his size, Sebastian took him further, nearly two-thirds of the way before his throat tightened and spasmed around him. His mouth was so _warm_. His head dropped back onto the pillow, his breath quickening and his stomach tightening. So close. So goddamn close.

There was a finger between his legs, probing gently. Before he could get ahold of himself, before he could stop him, the terror bubbled up like an overflowing kettle. Dimly, he was aware that he had started to hyperventilate, his withered lungs forgetting that real breath would never come again. _Oh – oh no, it’s – wait –_

“Edenson, are you – “

\----------

_It was in the chapel. Back to that goddamn chapel, arisen from the cinders like Jesus fucking Christ himself. Punishments, marks, johns. It happened there regardless of why. No – the “why” was always the same._

_The Prophet made him._

_The face on top of him swirled into fog. Who was it? Another nameless salaryman, indulging in a secret monstrosity?_

_Bring them to Christ. Show them how low they’re willing to sink in the eyes of the Lord, so they will find salvation in their shame._

_What a crock. They never repented. Not once. And when they didn’t…_

_His body didn’t belong to him. Just a conduit for sin. It belonged to the Church. It belonged to God. It belonged to the Prophet._

_What did that make him?_

_Sin. Just sin. Stagnant, oily water that would never be purified._

_That’s who was above him. The Prophet, his hideous mouth, his greying beard, his onion breath._

_“This is for your own good. God wants me to – Edenson.”_

_What? That’s not a word. Edenson? Is it a name?_

_“Edenson,” the Prophet said, his voice strangled. “Edenson. Nick. Nick, look at me. This isn’t real.”_

_Nick turned his head sluggishly, feeling fabric where there should have been the coarse, unfinished wood grain of the altar that held him in place. If only it wasn’t. He could tell himself it wasn’t, and he could try to be elsewhere, in his mind. But facts were facts._

_But the Prophet’s voice was so insistent, his lips moving unnaturally._

_“Nick. Look at me. You are having a flashback. You are in Venture Tower, with me. It is 2020. You are not where you think you are.”_

_That wasn’t the Prophet’s voice. That wasn’t the Prophet’s_ face.

\-----

That realization sent him hurtling back, like being tugged out of a well. He was still hyperventilating, but now he had been moved up into a sitting position. Lacroix was still there, beside him.

“Nick?” he asked softly. Nick turned to look at him, and nodded slightly, trying to breathe.

“Here.” He held out a finger in front of his face. “Blow out the candle. It will help.”

Nick struggled to force his breath into an even stream, as if he was blowing out a flame at the tip of Lacroix’s finger. Somehow, focusing it into a stream steadied him, and slowly he came down from the precipice. He shivered, more from fatigue than cold – it always left him bone tired to go back. What he wouldn’t give to close his eyes and go to sleep. Then, he remembered.

Lacroix had _seen it happen_.

Dread grew in him. Nick had _killed_ people for setting him off before.

What the hell was he going to do?

After an eternity of silence, Lacroix spoke again.

“I have them, too,” he said, very quietly. “Each night, I return to Waterloo. Most nights, I come to on my own, eventually. I would not leave you in that hell.”

So there was more to this boy king than the rest of the world knew. _Except me._

His shoulders slumped. Somehow, knowing that Lacroix understood made the shame less heavy. “I… I should have known this would happen. Been losing track of time all day. Thinking of… of old stuff. Even in the elevator up. Shoulda said something before, but… I don’t know. Thought I’d be okay.”

“May I touch you?” Lacroix asked.

Nick nodded, very slowly, and Lacroix reached out and took his hands in his. Nick swallowed, and even though the effects of his vitae had mostly worn off and he was once again undead, he swore he could feel his heart pound. Something about the way he touched his hands was so _intimate._ When was the last time someone had touched him gently? Was it ever?

“Now you’ve really got one on me,” Nick said, before he could stop himself.

Sebastian met his eyes. “Nick… I believe we have enough to hurt each other with, don’t you?” The two of them sat there in silence. “I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Even if you were my greatest enemy.”

Nick paused. Vulnerability, behind the worry. He might not use it against him, but Nick could. Could he? _I’ve really got it in the bag now,_ he didn’t think. _What a rube,_ he didn’t think. _All in a day’s work,_ he didn’t think.

What he did think was, _Thank god._

Never in a million years could he use this against him.

He edged closer, and laid his head on his shoulder. Sebastian wrapped one arm around him, pulling him closer.

“I’m not ready to talk about it just yet,” he said quietly. “But you can probably guess, huh?”

“I can guess. But you need not tell me anything you are not ready to tell me.” His hand stroked his back, and Nick closed his eyes. It really did feel nice. “You are here now. With me.”

“Don’t stop,” he murmured.

“I won’t. It is getting rather late, though. So perhaps we ought to lay down, before the sun does it for us.”

Nick opened his eyes and looked up. “You don’t want to…”

Sebastian opened his mouth, and then closed it again. “There are many nights ahead for the two of us, no? And even if you decide against doing this entirely… I will understand.”

“… Because I want to. I really, really do.”

Sebastian bit his lip, and reached up to touch his cheek, tilting Nick’s face up to his. “You owe me nothing, do you understand? I will not cast you aside because you failed to perform to expectations.”

“… I know,” he said. “And that’s why I want to. Because you’ll let me choose. And that means a lot to me, believe it or not.” He glanced down self-consciously. “If you still want to, I mean. If you don’t, it’s not a big deal, I’m not offended, or anything – “

“Nick,” Sebastian laughed, an embarrassed blush rising on his face. “ _Mon dieu._ As if I’ve been able to think about anything else but you.”

That old electricity sparkled inside of him. “Yeah?”

“Since the first moment I laid eyes on you,” Sebastian murmured, laying back on the bed and pulling Nick forward by the hands until he was on top of him. “Now, please. Before I go mad from it.”

Nick leaned forward to kiss him – not so hard, this time. The sun was going to rise soon, but it felt like they had all the time in the world. In a way, they did. He would make the most of it. Their legs intertwined, heat and friction building between them as they kissed, their breath catching.

“I brought lube if we need it,” Nick gasped between frantic kisses.

“I have some.” His lips found Nick’s neck, and for one terrified, exhilarated moment he thought he would sink his fangs in. “I am not so unprepared. Top drawer.”

He reached over into the ornate end table and felt around before his hand found the bottle of what looked like absurdly expensive lube, about a third used. He did a double-take, and met his eyes.

Sebastian bit his lip, and smirked. “You look surprised.”

“What’ve you been up to, hmm?”

“What should I say? I use it.”

Nick could feel his face flush at the thought of him alone in his room, taking himself apart. He lifted Sebastian’s leg up, onto his shoulder, and Sebastian’s breath hitched. He popped the cap and poured some into his hand, sliding a few fingers between his legs. “Like this…?”

He let out a long, ground out sigh, parting his legs further. “Ah… god, yes…” Mother of _fuck._

“Bet I can one-up you…” Practically speaking, he didn’t need much warmup – he was pliant and needy, in every sense of the word. But he took his time anyway, carefully working him into a whimpering, desperate pile of Prince.

“ _Prendez-moi,”_ he begged, nails digging into the flesh of his back. “Nick, _s'il vous plait…_ ”

Oh, he could drag this out forever, if he was in the mood. But not tonight. Tonight, he wanted to give him everything he could ever dream of. He leaned forward to kiss him, sliding his fingers out. He took hold of himself and very carefully slid inside of him.

“ _God_ , Sebastian,” he muttered, bracing himself on the bed with one hand.

“Ah, _mon cher,_ ” Sebastian gasped, gripping him tight. “Just like that, _yes_ …” His words trailed off into a meaningless string of French, and Nick took that as a sign that he should move. He rolled his hips forward until he hilted himself, drunk on the sensation of him wrapped so tightly around him. Nick rocked his hips forward, the need overpowering to fuck him senseless, to pound him into the mattress hard enough that he wouldn’t be able to walk the next day without thinking of Nick and getting hopelessly hard.

His thrusts became staccato; frantic. Sebastian’s eyes rolled back; his lips parted in ecstasy. Nick’s lips crashed into his, and suddenly Sebastian was crying out, spilling onto his stomach, tightening like a vise around him. Nick fucked him through it, the coil of tension in his stomach demanding more, more, _more._ Stars burst as he squeezed his eyes shut, and shot into him with the last bit of energy he could muster.

Nick slumped onto him, the two of them breathless and exhausted. Sebastian’s hand came up to touch his back. “That was… quite extraordinary,” he purred, sated. Nick slid out of him, eliciting a slight gasp from both of them.

“Yeah… yeah, s’really good. We should… we should do this again some time …” The sun was probably just starting to break the horizon, judging by how bone tired he was. He reached up to stroke his cheek, sleepy eyes meeting Sebastian’s.

Sebastian’s cheeks went luminously pink again. “We should. Closer to sunset.”

Nick grinned. “Go to sleep, mon cher.”

_What a funny feeling,_ he thought. _Feeling safe._

_\-------_

_He dreamed of that night._

_The smell of the kerosene was seductive. It was better than food – it was better than jerking off._

_The moon hung heavy in the sky as Nick drizzled it over every square foot of the barracks. As he sauntered out, lifting some enormous rocks he’d found in front of the door for good measure, he left a long, wet trail down the grassy path to the meeting hall. A jerrycan and some fallen trees later, and he made his way to the chapel._

_He’d saved two cans for this._

_After all, the Prophet slept there._

_There was a song he’d heard while sucking off the truck driver who had given him the kerosene. He started singing it as he soaked the wood, soaked it until the fumes were so overpowering, he had to step away._

_“Stars when you shine, you know how I feel… scent of the pine, you know how I feel…”_

_He was nearly out of the stuff now. He had to hope that would cover it._

_“Yeah, freedom is mine – and you know how I feel...”_

_He walked over to the barracks, and took the matches out of his pocket. Struck the match. Tossed it._

_“It’s a new dawn - ” Another, into the meeting hall. “It’s a new day, it’s a new life… for me…”_

_Finally, he struck the last match and set the chapel ablaze._

  



End file.
